


Tumble and Fall

by Except_on_Tuesday



Series: Days Like These [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Blood and Violence, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is Bad at Feelings, Crime Scenes, Gavin Reed Being an Idiot, Gavin Reed Whump, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Gift Fic, Gun Violence, Hallucinations, Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Gavin Reed, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury Recovery, Past Abuse, Prompt Fill, Rebuilding Trust, Sleep Deprivation, dysfunctional found family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25945531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Except_on_Tuesday/pseuds/Except_on_Tuesday
Summary: While working a case one down-pour day, Gavin takes a fast trip down a staircase.  Hank and Connor try to care for the concussed detective, but Gavin has difficulty adjusting to the changing atmosphere of his life.
Series: Days Like These [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670689
Comments: 25
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pumpkintiger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pumpkintiger/gifts).



\--

Taunt shoulders hunched and cold hands buried in his soaked jacket’s threadbare pockets, Gavin made his way down the sidewalk-turned-brook as rain continued to drop out of Detroit’s clouded, dark skies. If he had more energy, he might’ve made an effort to walk on the low landscaping wall that bordered the sidewalk. If his car wasn’t in the repair shop, he could have avoided getting wet altogether.

Heavy rain pelted against his body and the wind pulled at his hood. He tugged at its edges to pull it lower over his face. It kept most of the cold rain and wind out of his eyes and muffled the incessant racket of polluted water striking against cold glass, plastic, and steel.

Another gust sent him stumbling over a hitch in the sidewalk. He sighed and rolled his shoulders forward, water dripping off them onto his already soaked shoes. Through the weather ambiance, a rustling sound down an alleyway caught his attention. This sector of Detroit still had yet to fully open aside from some housing and a few stores, so there was not much out and about on the streets.

It was nothing. Just trash.

But the side glance had shown him his shabby reflection in a cracked storefront window. His wrinkled and wet clothes hung shapelessly; his usually slicked down hair was slowly escaping the product hold and a few errant, dark brown waves stuck to his temples and forehead.

_Frickin’ drowned rat._

He wriggled his hands out of his pockets, straightened his shirt, and tried to sweep his hair back, but the wind got his hood again and cold water poured down his neck and over his face. “Phckin’...”

His cold shirt clung to his chest, leeching the warmth from his core with every new gust of wind. Gavin plucked at it and yanked his hood down tight. His slack shoulders tensed with a wave of aggravation.

 _It’s f—kin’ fine fer Anderson to look like sh—t. He has reasons. He’s a d—mn lieutenant._ His teeth chattered as he mocked Captain Fowler’s responses to his complaints. _F—kin’ superhero Anderson._ But the inner heat did nothing to stop the wet chill creeping through his body.

Another sigh and he tucked his rapidly chilling hands back into his pockets. Connor was the new, shiny standard. Connor was always perfectly pressed and dressed and energetic no matter how long a case dragged on without solid leads. His preprogrammed good attitude never took a wrong turn.

Only yesterday, Gavin had overheard Anderson was advocating for the department to fill its empty staff and officer positions with paid androids. And for their right to be considered for promotion. A visceral reaction jolted past his mental numbness and Gavin’s heartbeat stuttered at the thought before he shrugged it away.

 _Whatever. Not like it isn’t inevitable anyway._ Soon androids would turn the tables and humans would became nothing more than sources of study and entertainment.

Last night—while he wasn’t sleeping—he’d heard one of the station’s talking TV heads going on about how the best case scenario for the future was for humans to accept that they were a lower form of life.

‘Androids are our superiors in every way.’ The talking head had claimed. ‘Androids do not ravage the planet, they do not create litter and pollution, they can regulate their population numbers, and they do not commit crimes of passion and hate except under human-incited stress. We should allow them to take the reins from us while they still respect us as their creators. It is time for the Olympian gods to step down.’

Gavin had scoffed. Something about the idea was ridiculous to him, but he’d been too tired and too distracted by the case on his desk to give further thought to nailing it down.

_Superior._

He kicked at a dented can as it floated past, sending it spinning and clunking against an abandoned bike rack. Just a few days ago, Connor had swanned—unasked—onto his crime scene talking about trajectories. Turns out, the killing bullet was shot from the porch not the entryway; a neighbor had taken advantage of the break-in to satisfy a neighborhood grudge.

“Hah f—kin’ hah.” Gavin scoffed. Answers seemed obvious when an android was pointing them out. _Then again...I should have suspected._ He thought he remembered telling Chris something about the creepy neighbor. But an idea wasn’t viable until Connor came along with his genius math. Only then was it a right answer. _Right people with right answers._ Gavin’s shoulders drooped.

 _I have to play this one close to the chest. I have to get another f—kin’ case on record before the departmental review._ His record for fast arrests had made him look good until, one by one, they were thrown out.

And now the captain had a newfound moral compass—probably borrowed from the president or the mayor—and was making it clear to everyone that anyone who couldn’t adapt to his new rules of behavior should find ‘work elsewhere’.

Gavin could have sworn the captain had looked straight at him.

Smile. Be nice. Be kind. Be a team. Or else.

The thought of being thrown out of the DPD threatened to stop Gavin full in his tracks as the will to fight and survive bled out of him like the water dripping off his jacket cuffs.

 _No._ Gavin stubbornly fixated his attention and thoughts on the murder investigation. _I’ll do my job. And I’ll do it right. I’ll show them._

His thoughts calmed as he focused on the case: A dinner party that ended with the guests shot dead after the final course—execution style.

The main suspect was the husband—Gavin knew he was the guy—but without solid evidence of the man’s motive and presence at the scene of the crime Gavin couldn’t prove it. He had to find evidence and break the man’s airtight alibi. The whole case had to be perfect.

_Evidence. Always about the evidence._

A whisper purred at his ear. _You have to make others see what you know. Media attention is on Anderson and Connor’s case this week. No one will ever look twice at you. No one will get hurt._

Gavin shook his head. “Someone is always hurt.” He murmured. He knew that from experience.

//Flashback//

Newly minted Lieutenant Hank Anderson looked up from studying a case file when Gavin sauntered into the observation room close on Ben’s heels. Gavin smirked and gave a sloppy salute with two fingers. Anderson didn’t react except to look pointedly at Gavin’s leg.

Gavin rolled his eyes. Anderson had tried to have him discharged over the injury, but physical therapy—a few loans and a midnight visit to a surgeon who didn’t ask questions—set him back on his feet.

Gavin sent a messy wink at the lieutenant and added more bounce to his swagger. He’d passed the department’s physical evaluation. No one had any ground for complaint against his physical competence. He could keep up with anyone they wanted to test him against.

_That physical eval was so freakin’ easy it’s laughable. Or maybe the Novocain made it laughable...either way..._

“I passed.”

“Evening, Ben.” Anderson returned his attention to the display that showed a suspect who sat cuffed to the table in the interrogation room. The man was rocking to and fro as far as the cuffs would allow and murmuring to himself.

Gavin frowned at the dismissal, but he shrugged it off. Crossing his arms, he made himself comfortable against the far wall where he could observe the whole room.

 _Cake would be tasty._ He’d seen one set out on the breakroom table. _Cake ‘n coffee for breakfast..._

“That your guy?” Ben nodded at the cuffed man.

“Pretty sure.” Anderson said with a wry smirk. The fine lines around his tired eyes were deep from stress. “He seems crazy enough.”

“Wow. That’s an f—kin’ vague term.” Gavin rolled his eyes and ignored Ben’s wince. The older detective had more than once refused to side with him against the overbearing and self-righteous lieutenant. Ben was burning his own bridges. _Not like I need him anyway._

Anderson stared at Gavin. “Excuse you?”

Gavin motioned with his head at the observation window. “First of all,” he straightened up from the wall, “bein’ funky in the head ain’t grounds fer a murder conviction. So that’s not gonna fly. And just ‘cause he’s rockin’ doesn’t make ‘im ‘crazy’. Could be a coping method. He could be as sane as anyone.”

Anderson’s stare didn’t lessen. Gavin’s nails found the edge of a scab on the back of his hand and worried at it as he continued his point. “Secondly, you keep sayin’ things like that and the defense is gonna to jump on it and question yer suitability as an officer.”

Anderson turned away from Gavin and was typing on the digital computer.

Gavin’s hackles bristled. He stepped forward to confront the arrogant officer, swatting away Ben’s hand. “Are you intentionally tryin’ to f—k up this case?”

His breath caught in his throat when Anderson swung around to face him and a sting flushed his cheek. Gavin recoiled before he realized the pain was phantom.

Anderson stood impassively, his own face was pale and his eyes blazed with restrained irritation, but his hands were loose at his sides; one held the case file. Anderson dropped the case file onto the observation display’s sill. “Fix your tone, Junior Detective Reed. Or I’ll fix it for you.”

Anderson’s hands were big and powerful. One of them could easily break a nose or blacken an eye. Twist an arm. Two could throttle him into unconsciousness. Gavin’s drifting attention returned to the officer’s blue eyes when he spoke again. “If we don’t nail this guy with something, then he’ll walk free for lack of evidence.” Anderson snapped. “You want that?”

Ben spoke up. “He’s right, Hank. All the evidence we have on this guy is circumstantial and the DA has told us to be more aware of the language we use regarding suspects.”

Gavin spread his hands in a ‘see’ gesture at the lieutenant.

“Don’t side with him, Ben. It goes straight to his head.” Anderson rolled his eyes.

“Think about it,” Gavin’s nerve returned and he pressed his argument with interest, “Our guy in there could be—

“If you’re such an expert why don’t you question the d—mn suspect?” Anderson growled. “See if you can get a f—kin’ confession outta him.”

“Me?”

Ben looked sharply at the lieutenant. “Hank—

“Yeah.” Anderson’s tone was as unreadable as his expression as he ignored Ben. “Let’s see you do some work around here instead of just holding up walls.” He flapped the case file at Gavin. “Do you got what it takes to be a real detective?”

Gavin’s scowled darkened. He squared his shoulders and grabbed the case file out of Anderson’s hands. Or tried to, the lieutenant held the file, forcing Gavin to pause almost chest to chest.

_Don’t back down. Don’t phckin’ back down._

Anderson held the younger man’s glare for a moment then released the file.

“Frickin’....” Gavin shoved past the officer. “Jerk.”

Ben stepped between Gavin and the door to the interrogation room. “Gavin, wait.”

“I don’t need help.” Gavin dodged around Ben and entered the interrogation room. “Get some cake. I’ll just be a minute.”

“You heard him, Ben. Get some celebration cake for when this fool breaks.” Anderson said as he sat down to monitor the interrogation. “And Reed?”

“What?”

“I’ll time you.”

\--

The suspect looked over when Gavin sauntered into the room.

The detective’s only prop was the case file which he balanced on one knee once he’d sat across from the suspected killer. “Oldan.” He nonchalantly straightened his jacket and brushed at the sleeves.

A stare answered the greeting.

Gavin picked at the peeling tape that held a label onto the folder in hand. The detective was about to start his questions when the man leaned toward him. The threatening gesture rapidly became life-threatening as the suspect snaked across the table like spilling liquid.

Gavin scrambled up from his chair, but the attacker threw his full weight against Gavin.

A crack sounded when the back of Gavin’s head struck the floor. Heavy knees dug into his stomach. A face loomed over him. Expressionless and staring eyes—blue; soft hands closed around Gavin’s throat and cut off his air. Life was choked out of him without taunting, without smiling.

A gunshot.

Hot blood splattered over him, the floor, the wall. Dead weight and the smell of sweat and stale body spray. The dead man’s scratchy chin pressed against his face. A staring blue eye.

He didn’t remember who pulled the body off, but he did remember vomiting on someone.

Someone told him later that a defect in the cuffs had allowed the suspect to break free.

A wrongful death lawsuit told him that he had no cause to shoot the unarmed man. Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Collins testified it was self-defense. Internal Affairs prowled around. Captain Fowler chased them off, but not before Gavin was called ‘a trigger-happy and a poorly trained detective.’ But two minutes of impassive security footage exonerated him. The wrongful death case was dropped without another word. And Gavin’s reputation received another notch.


	2. Chapter 2

\--

Gavin shoved the humiliating memory into the corner of his mind. His vision blurred into a swamp of color as he stumbled against a bench. “Phckin’ hell....” He braced himself against the damaged outdoor furniture, breathed deep and risked a glance at the world beyond his hood.

Too bright red lights flashed too bright green as the streetlights on the arching pole above his head switched roles. Gavin could swear he heard a ‘click,’ ‘buzz,’ and ‘click’ as the LEDs dimmed and flared. The automated crosswalk monitor issued a monotone, death-rattle “waaalk” to the sidewalk. The roar of water being gulped into the slimy sewer system drowned out the mechanical command, but Gavin heard it as clearly as if it were a PA system linked direct to his eardrums.

He slumped down onto the unbroken section of the bench and covered his ears. He leaned his elbows on his knees and closed his eyes. All around, rain continued to fall and water continued to pool over trash glutted storm drains and culverts. 

He recalled the scene and the photos from his case. Mulled over each bloody clue and corpse. Mentally walked through the house again. His breath hitched. A bloody, partial footprint by the staircase. It was absent from the documented evidence. He’d memorized those files.

“Check the direction of the print.”

Gavin’s head jerked forward as he startled awake. Muttering a dazed curse, he unfolded himself. The additional evidence could prove the suspect was at the scene of the crime. _That should satisfy that f—kin’ defense lawyer._

Gavin grit his teeth as he continued his way toward the address. “F—kin woman...” He’d met the lawyer during the deposition and she’d been professional enough, but he’d hated her from the moment he’d seen her tailored suit and ironed smile.

He picked at a stiff side seam on his shirt that chafed against his skin; the motion aggravated the itch. Swearing, he forced his hands back into his pockets.

An old cab—running its pre-programed route without question—sped past and sent a cascade of gutter water over the detective. Startled by the noise and water, Gavin stumbled and drew in a ragged, wheezing breath. He pressed one hand against his chest and felt a mistimed flutter against his ribcage. “Phckin’...” Sluicing water off his jacket with one shaking hand he murmured the address to himself as he turned a corner. “Redford Ave, 12...12...90....”

He counted down dilapidated houses until he came to 1290: a two-story with peeling paint and a narrow lawn overgrown by yellow grass.

Gavin’s dragging feet scattered sodden driveway gravel and left deep impressions that quickly became puddles of dirty gray rainwater as he trudged up the driveway to huddle against the torn screen door. He fished out his badge to bypass the DPD’s temporary security system that kept the scene protected and locked down.

_D—mn cutbacks...even a phckin’ android would be more security than this piece of sh—t system._

The system issued a low hum.

Gavin’s head swam with vertigo; the porch and house walls spun and tilted. He caught the screen door’s flimsy frame with one hand, squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Phhck.”

The system acknowledged his ID with a chirp. A sharp clack of plastic and plaster sounded when a gust of wind caught the door and flung it open. Gavin waveringly put out a belated hand to catch the door and nearly fell inside.

“You should have asked for help.”

Gavin jumped and swore; his hand went for his gun and he pulled the weapon free in a single motion and spun around to face the street. “The hell!?” 

Connor stood dry as anything looking at him with superiority that should have been impossible in such a boyish face.

Gavin lowered his gun, flicking the safety on and holstering the weapon. “The hell you doing here? Coulda shot ya.”

“But you wouldn’t.” Connor smirked shyly—like he wasn’t quite sure he was making the right expression. The android looked as fresh and green as a first year rookie. That bit of unruly hair curled over his forehead, as out of place as the mischievous spark that lit the machine’s brown eyes every now and again.

Gavin shrugged. “Come to watch an’ learn from a real detective?” His sneer was a tired grimace that barely crinkled his lips. “Again?”

Connor watched the empty doorway and the corridor beyond as he answered Gavin’s question. “You shouldn’t be doing this alone.”

Gavin pushed past into the house. “I don’t need help.” If his ‘hunch’ paid off, then he could have this case filed away and he could get started on the new ones piling on his desk. 

“Or maybe get some rest?”

“Shut up.” Gavin shook out his jacket before entering the house. Only to see Connor studying a dark mark on the stairway carpet. “Oi. Go away. That’s my evidence.” Gavin snapped. He hadn’t seen the android move past him into the house. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. 

“The direction of this footprint suggests,” the android was saying, “that the killer came from—

“From upstairs.” Gavin budged Connor with the side of his leg on his way up the stairs. “Why d’ya think I came here?” He yelped when his foot slipped from the step and his knee slammed into its edge. Pain shot through his leg and he grit his teeth as he hauled himself up using the bannister. He swore repeatedly and hit the bannister with his fist as the pain swirled around his body before it finally faded.

Connor tipped his head to the side. “But why would the killer already have blood on their feet?” He raised his arm and pointed toward the dining room. “The killings started at the table.”

“Because—

“There’s another victim.” Connor finished with a smile.

Gavin’s fingers twitched as he strode upstairs. If he ignored the android maybe it would go away and stop talking over him. He wriggled a doorknob to what looked as if it could be a large walk-in closet.

“You should have asked someone to come out here with you.” Connor nagged from somewhere behind him. “Miller maybe?”

“No.” Finding the door locked, Gavin waved a hand at the android, motioning for him to stand back. He eyed the door and then, pivoting his weight, he launched a solid kick.

“Sh—t!” Pain shot up his leg and into his hip. “F—kin’ dammit...” He cursed and leaned against the wall, breathing through the waves of throbbing hurt and massaging the side of his leg. 

“Fake door.” Connor said from where he leaned against the wall. “People use them to make their houses seem bigger and more interesting.”

“I don’t need ya tellin’ me what I already know!” Gavin hunched his shoulders and moved toward one of the adjacent bedrooms. He studied the room for a brief moment and then shoved aside a dresser, leaned against the wall, and knocked at it with his knuckles. A hollow thud answered his tapping. “Gotcha.”

Gavin snapped pictures of the panel with his phone and then took out his knife and worked the panel free.

A plastic wrapped and lime covered corpse, frozen in a state of fear and panic stared at the detective.

_The first victim._

“The first victim.”

“That’s what I said.” Gavin snapped, busy documenting the newfound evidence.

“But what happened?”

“Oh, ho ho. Smart boy don’t know?” Gavin pointed at the floor covered in old blood and bloody footprints that looked to be a close match to the one found downstairs. “The husband killed everyone downstairs, but only after he killed this sucker up here.” He studied the body curiously. “This was impulsive, messy...there’s got to be evidence linking...”

A sound outside the bedroom caught Gavin’s attention. He stilled and turned toward the doorway, watching and listening. The emptiness of the house felt incomplete. Like a shadow lurking in a void.

“Did you bring Anderson with you?”

“Call it in now.”

Gavin hesitated and looked at the phone in his hand. A tiny chip on the protective case’s edge made him smirk.

Connor had one major pet peeve. Nothing pissed the android off faster than when Gavin would point a remote or a phone at him and pretended to control him. The last time Gavin had messed with Connor in such a way, the android had tried to take his phone away. The chipped case was the result.

Gavin rubbed his thumb against the jagged edge. When Connor had leapt at him from halfway across the bullpen, he’d really thought the android was going to murder him. 

The thing that most alarmed Gavin in that half second was that he hadn’t tried to protect himself. _I’m Detective Reed. I don’t just...give up...I can’t..._

Connor did tackle him to the ground...

...but...

...the android had put his hand at the back of Gavin’s head......to....

What? Protect it from striking the floor?

....Even the tackle itself had been.....

...gentle.

The attack was a diversion from the normal course of events.

Gavin was an irritant; if people weren’t spineless suck-up cowards, they hurt him. His role was to prove he couldn’t be hurt or pushed away. He let the chipped edge press deeper into his finger. The wrestle-fight with Connor for the phone had lasted less than a minute before Anderson stopped it with threats.

Gavin had been breathless, but unbruised. No black eye, no twisted arm or fractured fingers. No exposure of his shortcomings and flaws.

So he’d spent the next few nights ensuring that he was the same. That all the rules were still the same. Bar fight after bar fight, he proved the world was the same. Nothing had changed.

No one changed.

The tired man leaned his elbow on the bannister at the top of the stairs and scrolled through his short contact list. As much as he hated Connor’s advice, he did need to report the body he’d discovered. He thumbed dispatch and waited for the call to go through.

He ignored the footsteps behind him, assuming it was Connor. _Frickin’ android..._

The world tilted. He pitched forward. He grabbed for the bannister, but his arm wrenched and his own bodyweight and gravity broke his grip. The steps’ hard edges slammed into his body. His phone clattered down the stairs and spun away across the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

\--

At first Gavin thought he was face down on a musty carpet that smelt like it’d been wrapped around a dead dog and abandoned in a hot car for a few years. He flinched when a flat weight pressed gently against his throat. _Pulse check._

Who was checking his pulse?

“No spinal injuries. Let’s get him off the floor.”

“Gavin?”

“C’mon, man.”

“Gavin?”

The detective’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned as a voice continued nagging him into the living world. “S’appen...?” His mouth felt puffy and sore. He tried to spit out the thick coppery flavor, but couldn’t muster enough air for the result he wanted.

“Take it easy.”

Soft cotton... _gauze_...,he realized, touched his chin and lips. Probably wiping away blood and spit from a busted lip. An action he normally had to do for himself...with a sleeve. But he couldn’t quite get his arm up. His head dipped forward and his tongue poked out to explore the new wound on his lip. _Ow. Split lip fer sure._ But at least all his teeth were intact.

Air caught in his throat and he coughed, wincing at the pain that rippled through his sides as each bruised rib protested being moved to accommodate something as mundane as oxygen.

“Try not to move.” The speaker smelt like stale alcohol, dog and maybe a touch of laundry freshener.

But the name that belonged to the voice and smell eluded Gavin. No names of anyone came to mind. His memory was more interested in recalling the sum of his unpaid bills for the month and the fact that he was wet and cold and achy and...falling? “Phckin’ car...”

“F—k man, did you get hit by a car?”

_A few times._ Gavin swallowed. “Body...”

“Yeah. CSU is on their way.”

“I found...” Gavin insisted to the mystery person. He shivered when a cold draft swept across his face.

Booted feet sounded across the floor and low voices conversed for a moment. Gavin patted the ground with his hand for attention. “I found it.” He tried to draw his feet up but grunted at the stiffness in them.

“We know.” The voice drawled and an answering hand tapped his knee. “You keep saying that.” A short pause. “Thanks.” Something warm wrapped around his chest.

“Wasn’t....wasn’t.....android.” Gavin struggled to explain, but the voice shushed him.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve got all the human homicides. But we were closest when dispatch sent out an officer down alert with your location.”

“Not. Android.”

A sigh.

Another voice cut in. “The body belonged to the suspect’s brother. No androids were involved.”

Gavin’s chest went hollow and cold like a gutted fish. “Sh—t.” He forced his eyes open but snapped them shut when light seared them. Nausea roiled in his stomach and he swallowed to keep the rising bile down. 

A new voice joined the conversation. “Sir? My name is Haley. I’m an EMT.”

“Go t’hell.” Gavin snarled as he squinted through his lids. Anderson stood off to the side, talking on his phone in a low voice. And there was Connor acting innocent, kneeling shoulder to shoulder with the uniformed emergency personnel. Gavin jolted back from the small crowd. Pain lanced through his arm and into his back and shoulder. “Awfkin’ d—mmit’t’hell.”

The EMT noted the distressed patient’s alarm. “You’re okay.” She assured and replaced the shock blanket around his torso without jarring his injuries. “You took a fall down some stairs and hurt your shoulder. I’m going to set it. Can you tell me your name?”

“Think you people’d know it by now.” Gavin muttered. “D-detective-Sergeant Gavin Reed, DPD.” He felt the split in his lip widen as he rolled out the name and title.

He swatted away the hands that reached for him and propped himself up straighter against the wall. His head lolled and his ears rang loudly. “Stop...fussin’.” He breathed more shallowly. “’m fine.” Not as convincing as he wanted, but it was better than nothing.

“Gavin.” Haley said his name without any exasperation. “You will be fine, but you have a dislocated shoulder and a possible concussion. And that cut on your lip is going to need stitches.”

“Meh.” Gavin flapped a careless hand; pain jarred through his side and he flinched. “Don’t need t’be fixed.”

“The longer you wait to get your arm fixed the higher the risk of permanent damage to the nerves. I can give you a mild anesthesia if you want.” In a lower voice, “likelihood of fractured ribs too.”

Someone pressed a sticky bandage to the side of Gavin’s head. He winced and turned his head away. “Stoppit.”

“Gavin, would you like anesthesia before we set your arm?”

“Don’t need’t. Jus’ do whatchoo gotta do.”

“Alright. This will only take a minute. Stay relaxed.”

“Yeh...sure.”

The two medics set Gavin’s shoulder in a matter of seconds. He endured without a murmur until some portion of his mind sent a ‘mortal danger’ alert halfway through the effort with the pain levels skyrocketed.

Haley was a sport about it and waved off his mumbled ‘sry.’

“But let’s try a mild sedative now, okay Gavin?” She wiped her bloody nose, cleaned her hands and attended her agitated patient with the same careful attention as before he’d punched her.

“N-no...” Gavin stammered through the waves of pain radiating from his shoulder. “I-I got this.”

The EMT tried again to guide the arm back into its socket, but Gavin was too tense and high-strung. “You’re fighting me.” She said gently as she prepared to rotate the arm again and push it into place. “Relax. Can you do that?”

Gavin nodded and Haley gave the arm another experimental turn, but the adrenaline rushing through Gavin’s system wouldn’t let his body listen to his mind with all the fight or flight signals screaming for a response.

“Just shove it in there.” Anderson muttered from somewhere nearby. “Not his first rodeo.”

“There’s no need for that.” Haley’s partner said as he picked out the needle and a dose of the medication Haley would likely ask for in the next few seconds.

“I don’t need nothin’.” Gavin grit out.

“Your body is traumatized and under a lot of stress right now.” Haley explained. “I’d like to give you something to calm it down enough to get that arm back where it belongs. Then all this pain is going to settle down really quickly, alright?” She rubbed his other shoulder kindly. “You’ve been very strong.”

“Phhhckin’....d—mmit....fine.”

Under the sedative, fixing the arm went much smoother. Gavin’s thoughts were sluggish as his mind slowed to a sleepy crawl for the first time in several weeks. His body relaxed and his shoulder was manipulated back into its rightful place without further delay.

\--

Connor and Hank followed as the EMTs walked an unsteady but stubborn as ever Gavin out to the ambulance to rig him with a sling and put liquid stitches on his busted lip.

“He’ll be alright.” Haley said to Connor who was following closely on her heels. “He’ll be sore, but I want an eye kept on the concussion for the next few days.”

Gavin stopped walking abruptly and turned so quickly he nearly ran into Hank. “M’phone...I dropped it.”

“I got it here.” Connor said and held up the battered device.

“Excell....lent.” Gavin held out his hand which waved unsteadily. “Gimme.”

“Later.” Haley’s partner said. “Let’s get that arm secured better.” He nudged Gavin’s elbow so he would remember to keep the gauze pad applied to his lip.

“Pft.” Gavin winced, but didn’t say anything else as he was escorted to the ambulance.

Connor followed with Hank. “I wish they didn’t have to drug him.” The android said. “It seems wrong.”

“Do you want the docs to waste time fighting Gavin or doing their d—mn job so that they can get help to the next idiot?”

“But he’s drugged.” Connor’s tone made it clear that he was displeased with the situation. “He’s going to come out of it miserable.”

Gavin yowled his displeasure when his tender arm was manipulated into a tight sling.

“He’s always miserable.” Hank waved a hand. “If he can still stir up a fuss, he’s fine. Go sit with him while I finish securing the scene. He’s got a habit of wandering away when he needs medical attention.”

\--

“You were lucky.”

Gavin licked the dry liquid stitches on his busted lip as he folded a wrinkle in his jacket sleeve and concentrated on trying to make it stay folded.

There was no mistake. It was only a matter of time before Connor had had enough of him. Everything had been an act to confuse Gavin. _It worked._ He was forced to admit. _I fell for it. But it’s not like I actually really trusted ‘im._ Gavin tried to convince himself. _Jus...just.....I knew this was gonna happen._ He pushed down on the fold. _I wanted it to happen. I forced ‘im to play his hand early._

This was going to be Gavin’s victory over the stupid android. It couldn’t have known Gavin expected the betrayal. Surviving another day was all that could be hoped for from the victory. The android knew Gavin didn’t have any weight to throw against it. It was, after all, the station’s favorite android.

_Teams take care of each other...._

The lieutenant would cover for the android and Captain Fowler would cover for the lieutenant. The more waves Gavin tried to stir up against the android, the faster his own boat would sink.

The machine sighed and leaned against the ambulance bumper. A silent refusal to leave.

Heavy footsteps crunching across the scattered gravel drew Gavin’s attention and he looked up to see Anderson striding toward the ambulance. “Okay.” The older man called out. “We’re done here.”

Gavin deliberately looked away and feigned interest in the ambulance’s equipment covered walls. He was too tired to navigate people’s faces right now.

Anderson lightly slapped the bumper to get Gavin’s attention. “CSU packed up the body you found. They’ll have reports ready by morning.”

“Good.” The android nodded at Gavin who was unraveling a thread from a restraining strap on a backboard. “You found the evidence we needed to charge your suspect.”

_What’s it want from me? Am I supposed to play pretend that I’m the smart one? What for?_ Maybe the android found it amusing to confuse him. _Doesn’t want me to get myself fired by accusing it....wants to keep me around...._

\--

Gavin blinked awake slowly and scowled at the pleasant little house through the tiny passenger window of Anderson’s car. “This isn’t my place.”

“We know.” Connor turned around to look at Gavin. “But you’re staying with us for a bit.”

“I didn’t agree to that.”

“Yes you did.” Hank turned off the car engine and stepped out of the car. Connor slid the seat back and offered a hand to Gavin. The man tumbled out on his own, shying away from the android’s touch.

“Don’t make a scene.” Hank warned as he unlocked the front door. “The neighbors love to gossip.”

Gavin growled and pushed past Connor and shoved himself through the doorway just as Hank opened it and before anyone could warn him about the large dog that came bounding out.

“Sumo!”

Gavin squeaked “dog” in the second before the pet slammed into him. He stumbled backwards into Hank who was saved by Connor’s outstretched arm pressed against his back.

Hank grabbed Connor’s arm, and crowded Gavin into the house while corralling Sumo in the same direction with his knees and slammed the door.

Safe from prying eyes, Hank locked the door and took stock of the situation. Connor was already alongside Gavin who was on his knees, good arm curled around his chest in an attempt to halt the pain of the hurt ribs aggravated by Sumo’s overly friendly greeting.

“You’re alright,” Connor said, “nothing broke. Steady breaths. The pain will pass soon.”

“Sssshut....phck up.” Gavin snarled. He growled at Sumo who’d come over to sniff at him and offer an apologetic lick. “G’way, mutt.”

“Sumo, please.” Connor waved a hand. “Gavin can you stand? Do you want to sit on the couch?”

“Just leave me alone.”

“Gavin—

“Leave me the f—k alone!” Gavin shoved at the android.

“Okay, okay,” Connor backed away. If Gavin’s words hurt him, it didn’t show on his calm face. “Hank, I’m going to take Sumo for a little walk. Will you keep an eye on Gavin?”

“Uh...yeah.” Hank agreed, seeing that Connor was keeping up a brave front in the face of Gavin’s bad attitude. For as tough as Connor was, he could be caught off guard by his emotions. Rather than work through them with Hank in front of Gavin—who’d probably laugh at him forever for being weak—Connor probably wanted to calm down on his own. “Call if you need anything.” Hank kept the offer casual so as not to embarrass Connor.

“I will.” Connor smiled and patted his leg to get Sumo’s already riveted attention. “Let’s go, boy.”

\--

While Connor was gone, Hank relaxed on one end of the couch and did his best to concentrate on a Gears game while Gavin sulked at the kitchen table, too stubborn to move to a more comfortable seat.

Gavin looked up when Hank’s phone rang.

“What’s up Connor?’ Hank turned the television down so he could hear the android’s voice better. “Oh...yeah. Yeah, he’s fine....’kay...Don’t stay out too late.” He ended the call. Gavin had returned his attention to his phone. “Reed.” He turned off the television and stood up, stretching his back and arm.

Gavin looked up from scrolling on his phone. His face was without its usual scowl as if he’d forgotten or was too tired. But sure enough, here came the scowl. Hank said, “Connor’s staying out to do some errands that we didn’t get to earlier. Text him if you need anything. Hank forced out the polite offer. “I’m heading to bed.”

Gavin hunched his shoulders and looked back to his phone.

“Always with the attitude.” Hank shook his head and flung his hands upward dismissively. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Phck off.” Gavin muttered.

“We save your hide today, take you in while you recover an’ you’ve got not a shred of gratitude for it.”

Gavin’s mood erupted like the surface of a formerly placid sea whipped into a frenzy by a sudden storm. He jumped up, ignoring the pain radiating throughout his head and body. “Ain’t I playin’ yer d—mn game nice enough?”

“It’s not a f—kin’ game.” Hank felt his own temper begin to flare in response. “You had an accident—

Gavin’s scoff turned into a loud, jarring laugh. “Right.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Hank demanded coming into the kitchen.

“Nothin’.” Gavin sidled around the kitchen chair, it between himself and Hank now, and crossed his good arm over the one in the sling. A fortified retreat from the confrontation he’d caused.

Blue eyes locked onto his as Hank shoved aside the chair, sending it clattering. The edge of the kitchen counter pressed into Gavin’s back. His mouth was dry. He cursed his body for its reaction as he felt a tremble in his crossed arms. _I’m a homicide detective. I—_

“Tell me what’s goin’ on in that head of yours!”

“Yer d—mn ‘droid shoved me down the freakin’ staircase!” The words were out before Gavin could stop them. He cursed his personality and the impulse to fight back. It always led to this. Mouthing off at someone who could wreck his career. Why couldn’t he just take it quietly? Why couldn’t he just be good?

“What did you say?” Hank’s voice dropped to a lower tone.

Gavin made a pushing motion with his hands, miming the accusation as best he could with one arm in a sling.

“That’s low, Reed.” Hank hissed. “Connor would never—

“He did.”

“Stop lying!”

“I’m not!”

Hank grabbed Gavin by the jacket lapels, yanked him forward and then slammed him against the kitchen counter. Gavin’s pained gasp registered in Hank’s awareness, but the old cop was too incensed to care about the tough sergeant’s comfort.

“F—k you!” He shook Gavin harshly. “And your d—mn stubborn arrogance! Your f—kin’ inability to act like a d—mn adult—

“This the part where I lose my job?” Gavin sneered through the haze of pain from his jarred shoulder and ribs.

Hank tightened his grip. “You get thrown out of the DPD, it’ll be your own d—mn fault.” He put weight in his words. “You want to stay with the DPD? You’d better clean up your f—kin’ act an’ start learning how to trust your teammates.” He loosened his grip on Gavin’s lapels and stepped away.

Gavin stayed pressed up against the counter, feet slightly splayed, one elbow holding most of his weight.

“Don’t trust me or the evidence?” Hank pointed in an attempt to nail the words to Gavin’s stubborn little brain. “Fine. Maybe that’s too much to ask off the clock.” He walked away, leaving Gavin in the kitchen. “Trust what you know about Connor.” He said without turning around. “The worst thing that kid ever did was care about you.”


	4. Chapter 4

\--

Hank laid in bed not sleeping.

Reed always got under his skin in the worst possible way. The man was ambitious and obnoxious and selfish and stupid and thoughtless. Like he never grew out of teenage tempestuousness.

There’d been a time once when Reed seemed to worship the ground under Hank’s feet. But now he was more likely to be greeted with a variation of ‘stinks like booze.’ ‘Lieutenant Anderson’ was spat at him like an insult.

And now Connor was getting pulled into it. As an android detective, Connor faced more than his share of harassment from the public element, but Hank had seen the deep pain flicker in Connor’s brown eyes when Reed had snarled at him.

Reed was on a precipice, ever ready to backslide into his old ways and lose what little he’d gained. He had to be held in check with a strong hand. For his own good.

 _I’m his lieutenant. I’m responsible for him._ Hank squeezed his eyes shut. _Then why do I feel...guilty?_

He reviewed the confrontation in his mind again. Reed had been mouthing off, accusing Connor of attacking him—all to avoid admitting to falling down a set of stairs. Reed was protecting his ego without any consideration for Connor.

Connor had enough people—android and human—accusing him of crimes while under Cyberlife’s orders. He didn’t need his own co-worker throwing that history of violence in his face.

Reed had to learn a lesson. But could the lesson have been delivered without laying hands on Reed in a fit of temper? As Hank continued to review his actions, he remembered Reed’s defensive posture.

The younger man had felt threatened, but instead of lashing out physically, he’d retreated, created distance. And Hank had gone after him.

Hank remembered the clatter of the thrown chair hitting the ground. Remembered the aggression in his own body language. The anger and indignation in his heart. And Reed had taken it.

All he’d been worried about was getting fired. He wasn’t going to protest being manhandled by an officer.

 _He’s all screwed up._ Hank stuffed his face into his pillow. _I’m all screwed up. Selfish, ruthless, brutal. What are we even doing anymore?_ The orphaned father rolled over again as he continued to wrestle his demons.

\--

After Anderson had left him, Gavin had remained where he was. He leaned heavily against the counter, half-asleep as he kept a paper towel pressed against his bleeding hand. He heard the happy trotting of paws on the walkway outside and the jangle of a pet tag against a leash clip.

Gavin stuffed the paper towel into his jacket pocket and clenched it there in his fist. Setting his jaw, he waited as a key turned in the lock.

Coming through the front door, Connor was twirled by the excited Saint Bernard looping around his legs. “Oof, Sumo.” The windblown and damp android chuckled as he threw out an arm to brace himself against the doorway and untangled his mud splattered legs from the long leash.

Gavin frowned at the almost human clumsiness. Connor looked like any other goofy pet owner.

Once Connor unclipped the leash, Sumo gave himself a shake and ran up to Gavin and woofed at him. The sergeant cringed from the damp animal without moving his feet.

“Sumo.” Connor remonstrated, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Hank. “We talked about this. Gavin doesn’t want to play.”

Gavin prided himself on his ability to stare unmoved into the face of any suspect, but when Sumo sat, panting, at his feet and turned big, brown mournful eyes on him, Gavin couldn’t help but let his hand out of his pocket long enough to pat the big dog’s nose and ruffle one ear. “There.” He said and wiped his hand off on the back of his pant leg. “Now leave me alone.”

Sumo tried to lick Gavin’s hand, but it had already sought refuge in the pocket. With a wag of his tail, Sumo lapped up water from his dish and sashayed to his doggy bed, turning twice before lying down, head on paws and huffed contentedly.

“D—mn dog.”

Connor smiled lightly as he ruffled a hand towel over Sumo’s fur and tossed the wet towel toward the washing machine.

Gavin pinched the crumbled paper towel in his pocket between his fingers as he watched Connor unload a few canvas grocery bags onto the kitchen table.

An orange rolled free from one sack. Gavin watched the fruit dispassionately as it teetered on the edge.

“Are you in pain?”

“Huh?” Gavin looked up. “What?”

“Your shoulders are tense.” Connor nodded, as he folded the canvas bags and then stuffed them into a drawer. “Have you been doing the ice and heat therapy that Haley told you to do?”

Gavin rubbed his shoulder gingerly. “’s fine.”

“It’s swelling again isn’t it?” Connor’s hands curled into fists as he spoke. “It’s going to cause discomfort and pain.” When Gavin didn’t answer, Connor stepped forward and tapped the counter. “Gavin.”

Gavin shrugged away as if he’d thought he’d been touched. “Will you just shut up fer a freakin’ minute? I’m tryin’ t’say somethin’.”

Connor’s brow furrowed and he backed up. “Okay. Sorry. I’m listening.”

Gavin sucked in a shallow breath.

“Why did you push me down the phckin’ stairs?” The question came out in a rush and was punctuated by a sharp, careless laugh. Gavin partially turned away from Connor and scratched at his facial scar before biting his thumbnail and then gripped the back of his own neck while he impatiently waited for an answer. “Well, plastic? Why?”

Connor waited until Gavin looked at him. He held Gavin’s stare. “I didn’t.”

Gavin’s response was a choking sound that might have been a chuckle. Connor waited for a follow up question or even an explanation to contextualize the inquiry. But all Gavin did was fidget with a drawer handle and glare at his shoes. Disconcerted by the short, negative answer.

While Gavin absently opened and closed the drawer, Connor ran water over the pile of dishes in the sink.

“Well, someone did.” Gavin stated as he slammed the drawer.

“I found no evidence that anyone pushed you.” 

“What? My word ain’t good enough? Think I’m making sh—t up fer attention?”

“I think you’re sleep-deprived.” Connor watched the water swirl around the dirty dishes. Clumps of dried food created tidal pools and rivers. A paper plate grew soggy and limp like a beached jellyfish.

“Phckin’ piece of sh—t! Why’re ya playin’ games wi’ me?”

“I’m not.” Connor said. He shut off the water and walked out of the kitchen to the living room.

Gavin scowled and glared at a crack in the linoleum floor. “Stupid plastic.” He muttered loud enough to carry into the living room.

“Pouty human.”

Gavin’s head snapped up. “The phck you say?”

“Nothing.”

He glared at the smirking android as Connor spread clean sheets over the couch. The television was on but muted, rendering the room with a light blue glow.

Gavin stuffed his hand deeper into his pocket and prowled into the living room for a closer look at the TV. He stood at the edge of the room, keeping Connor in his peripheral vision as he checked the television program. Knowing the android, he’d expected some documentary and wasn’t surprised to see a large blue whale drifting silently across the screen followed by a bunch of smaller fish.

The camera and editing work was rather...well done.

Connor moved quietly to the side, keeping Gavin in his vision as he turned the couch into a comfortable bed for a human. He didn’t miss the way the tired detective hyper-focused on the soothing images of graceful underwater giants on the television. He’d picked this exact episode for its colors and the overall calmness of the cinematography. No flashiness or excitement. No people or talking. 

\--


	5. Chapter 5

\--

Gavin woke to the smell of clean laundry and with his cheek pressed against a soft pillow. “The phhhck?” He stared at the sheet tucked over him. “How did I...why’m I?”

“You fell asleep on your feet.”

Gavin glared at the android seated cross-legged in the recliner to the side of the couch. Balanced on his knees was a photo album.

“I—

Connor interrupted the predicted protest. “How many times do you need to fall down before you let yourself sleep?”

“Well, phck that.” Gavin freed one arm and tried to sit himself upright, back against the arm of the couch. The pillow slid to the floor with a dull ‘thwop.’ His cheeks paled with anger. “I had to solve that case.”

“I understand.”

“No you don’t! How could you know whatzzit phckin’ like t-t’be..t’be....what’s...it’s...d—mmit!” Gavin stammered around his words. “Phck! Y’don’t know! An’ stop actin’ all—

Gavin waved his hand. The movement jostled his arm and he winced and swore again. “Phck.”

“Humans need sleep to function.” Connor gave a shrug and went back to musing over the photo album. “Besides, I’d think after the Wade case you’d be on....sky nine?”

“The hell you talkin’ ‘bout?” The detective glowered at Connor. “What’s a ‘Wade’ case?”

“I don’t know all the details, I was at a press conference with Hank, but Chris told me that you had the idea to trace bullet trajectories beyond what CSU initially calculated as the origin point.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes at the expression that crossed Connor’s face and he rapidly flipped through his mental dictionary:...

... _Taking too long, Gavin._... Y _our stupid is showing._

 _Phck that._ Gavin picked from his top five. “Whatcha smirkin’ about?”

“You solved the Wade case after you rethought CSU’s trajectories.”

Gavin glared at his socked feet that poked up from under the sheet. Irritated, he kicked it off to join the pillow on the ground. 

“You discovered a third party—the actual killer—and made a clean arrest.”

“Didn’t say sh—t about trajectories...” Gavin slouched down and crossed his arm over the sling, rubbing the sore spot gingerly.

“You solved the case on your own. Just like you solved this latest one. Falling down the stairs was just a bad accident caused by a lack of sleep and proper nutrition.”

“You’re the one with the trajectories.” Gavin slouched lower as if to escape his own muttered words. “Y’were the one poking around in that murder house t’day...yesterday...whatever...”

“I wasn’t there.” Connor said, leaning forward. “You were hallucinating.”

“Was not.”

“Give me your phone.” Connor finally snapped and held out his hand across the short gap between himself and the couch. “I’ll prove it.”

“No.” Gavin put a hand over his jacket where he kept his phone in an inner pocket.

The android rolled his eyes. “Driving me crazy, Gavin.” He muttered as his LED spun yellow and the television screen flickered and turned black with a buffering ring circling in the center.

Gavin blinked as a recording came up on the screen.

“This is me and Hank at the press conference the day you solved the Wade case. See?” Connor said.

Gavin scoffed. “So what? Coulda been faked. Means nothing.” He didn’t say anything about the way the android looked unbearably uncomfortable in front of all the reporters—constantly shifting his weight and fooling with his tie and creeping behind Anderson’s shoulder only to be budged forward by the lieutenant every other moment to answer a question.

“What about these clips from the reporters at the Wade residence?”

A few sweeping images of the residence with the reporter giving excited updates in a suspenseful voice that would have been more appropriate at a sporting event.

“You are the only detective at the scene.” Connor pointed out the obvious. There were plenty of officers and forensic team members, but Gavin was the only detective popping in and out of the house, Chris close on his heels.

“Coulda faked it.”

“Gavin Reed,” Connor put his hands up in exasperation, “you’re just being stubborn now.”

Instead of answering with a snide remark or swearing, Gavin spoke quietly. “I don’t want to play whatever game this is.” The words were spoken as if they’d been written down with a careful hand. As Gavin continued, his voice took on a slight stammer and he lost control of his voice. “I don’t...I don’t know why you an’ the ‘tenant are doin’ this.” He shook his head. “I won’t say anythin’ ‘bout y-you pushin’ me, but just....just stop phckin’ around w’me.”

Connor terminated the connection to the TV. His LED was red. “Gavin...”

“I can’t figger it out.”

Lip reading was the only reason Connor detected the barely spoken words. Gavin’s voice had dropped to a register that was barely loud enough to carry over the slight hum of the house appliances.

“There’s nothing to figure out.” Connor said. He wanted to add ‘we care about you,’ but he knew from prior experience that Gavin never had a good reaction to such sentiments. He skipped over the words and said, “A lack of nutrition and sleep led you to suffer hallucinations. You imagined I was at those crime scenes with you.”

“Didn’t mean to.” Gavin whispered to his drawn up knees in which he’d buried his face. Connor knew the man’s hurt arm and shoulder had to be aching. Maybe Gavin wanted the pain.

Connor stood up. “Think about it, okay?” He said. “Why would I want to steal credit from you or even push you down stairs? What’s the motive? I’ll be right back.” He went into the kitchen for the icy-hot patches.

\--

“So. Motive.” Connor said as he walked back to the living room, sliding his finger under the package’s flap to pull it open without tearing the box. “Have I done anything in all this time to give you reason to suspect me?”

“People don’t need a reason...they just do.”

Connor frowned. It sounded like Gavin was having a completely different conversation in his own head. “This isn’t about people. This is about me, Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife. Remember?”

Gavin yawned against his knees and nodded as he mumbled. “Android detective.”

 _For crying out loud,_ Connor thought, _he’s just exhausted. If he’d get some sleep, he’d think more clearly about this whole mess. I’m not even sure he’s fully awake right now._ He crouched next to the couch, but not close enough to crowd Gavin’s space. “I have a pain relief patch for you.”

“Don’t...need’t.”

“Haley said for you to use them.”

“Haley?”

“The EMT you punched.”

“Oh.”

“And she wants you to use the pain relief patches. They’ll take away some of the pain so that you can get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

“Don’t need’ta talk.”

Connor was pulling the sticky back off the patch. “Oh really? You’ve solved the stairway case with the mysterious android suspect?” He kept his tone light, but not mocking.

“Sstupid....Connor not suspect. No motive. Idiot fell on ‘is own.”

“You’re not an idiot, Gavin.”

“Imma genius.”

“Ah....” Connor smiled. “Let’s not go that far. Here,” he nudged Gavin carefully. “Stick that on your shoulder.

With a mumbled complaint, Gavin snatched the patch and stuck it to his shoulder.

“Not on your clothes.” Connor blinked. “It has to be on your skin.”

Gavin stubbornly placed his hand over the patch possessively. “I like it here.”

“Alright, alright, keep it there.” Connor opened up a new one. “Can I do this one for you?”

Gavin went still. “I kin do it.” When he almost stuck the patch to his neck, Connor sighed.

“This isn’t working. Oh...Hank...did we wake you?” Connor popped up from his crouch before realizing that the sudden motion roused Gavin from his sleepy state. His green eyes were blinking into full awareness and an unhappy scowl was making its way across his face.

“The hell...”

Connor put his face in his hands in near despair of ever getting any of these humans to sleep. Sumo woofed softly as he too was disturbed by the commotion.

“Wasn’t sleeping.” Hank muttered as he shuffled past them and disappeared through the garage door.

“Put your head back down.” Connor commanded without turning around to face Gavin.

“Where the hell’s he goin’?”

“I don’t know. Will you stay here?” Connor wanted to check on Hank, but he didn’t want Gavin following him around.

“No.”

The garage door opened after a moment and Hank came through with a small bag in hand. Ignoring the two young men watching him, he filled up a glass of water and put it and the bag in the microwave.

“Hank?” Connor asked as he watched Hank open the freezer and yank out an old looking ice pack—it looked like a half-cat, half-ice cream monstrosity. “What is that?”

“Ice pack.” Hank pressed the colorful object against Gavin’s formerly dislocated shoulder. “Fifteen minutes.” Gavin hissed at the cold contact, but put his hand on the cold pack to hold it in place.

The microwave beeped. “After fifteen, put that,” Hank pointed to the bag in the microwave, “on his shoulder for another fifteen. Keep doing that,” he lowered his voice, “until he falls asleep, okay?”

Connor nodded dutifully. “Thank you Hank.”

“Whatever.” Hank turned before he departed down the hallway. “Oh, and Connor?”

“Yes?”

“There a reason you didn’t do the dishes?”

“Dishes?”

“I wrote you a note.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Once Hank was gone. Gavin cracked open one eye. “Dishes suck.”

“I agree.” Connor wanted to resume their conversation, but it looked as if the cold pack was finally numbing the pain in Gavin’s shoulder to the point the detective-sergeant could start falling asleep.

Connor stayed nearby, but was careful not to move around. Gavin was the most inquisitive and restless human Connor had yet to meet. Every sound and movement seemed to set his brain on fire and send sleep skittering away like a bag of marbles.

Gavin was still restless and tossed and turned as best he could, but his sling was in the way and he couldn’t seem to lie still until Connor pushed the pillow under his arm as a support. By that time the warm, soft wheat bag was resting on Gavin’s shoulder.

But whether it was the pillow support or the soft heat of the wheat bag, Gavin was soon asleep. Connor scanned him twice to be sure.

All Gavin’s vitals matched up with a prior profile Connor had made the last time the human had fallen asleep at his desk. The man was well and truly asleep.

Connor sighed in relief and put himself into standby.

\--


	6. Chapter 6

\--

Gavin was on his fifth day of convalesce from his concussion. He was still fatigued and occasionally nauseous, but some of the fog around his thoughts and memories was clearing. His shoulder was still sore and stiff. It took some management from Connor to remind him to use the icepack, but Gavin had quite decided that the heated wheat bag was the best thing he’d ever encountered. He was rarely without it cradled between his neck and shoulder. 

And now, Gavin would be returning to his own apartment and work schedule as soon as Haley got a chance that day to review Connor’s scans of Gavin’s shoulder and head injury.

Until then, they were taking it easy.

Clad only in shirtsleeves and jeans, Connor was at the sink filling a stockpot with water. Judging by the pile of dirty dishes set aside in the dishrack, he was more interested in the physics and science of water and bubbles than in clean dishes. Several brands of differently colored dish soap sat out on the counter and the android would selectively add soap to the stockpot and gauge the reaction as he swirled his hands around the warm water to make a sudsy whirlpool.

Sumo sprawled on the couch chewing on a new toy that Connor bought for him.

Gavin was at the kitchen table, head pillowed on his folded arms, recently warmed wheat bag nestled against his shoulder, dozily watching an infomercial on the living room television about a proposed subway system for Detroit commuters.

The new system, according to the speaker, would clear up more space for the ever-growing environmental movement to make attempts to reestablish native flora and fauna in the city. Gavin’s feet were curled under his chair’s rungs, one socked foot having escaped its shoe as he idled half-awake.

“Gavin?”

Gavin flopped like a fish to change direction while maintaining the same positions to fix his attention on the android. “Eh?”

“Does color matter with these solutions?”

“Color o’what?” Gavin yawned.

“Soap.” Connor flicked bubbles at the drowsy human.

Gavin blinked when one rogue sphere landed on an eyelash. “Blue works best.”

“Blue?” Connor turned back to the line of products each boasting its capabilities.

“It doesn’t matter, Connor.” Hank gave a world-weary sigh as he came in from the front porch where he’d gone to avoid the morning madness that was Gavin and Connor feuding over the single bathroom.

Gavin grumbled and draped the wheat bag over his head—annoyed by Hank’s face.

Hank ignored Gavin and gave the pile of dishes an askance look and fixed one plate that looked about two seconds from crashing to the floor. “The one that you actually use is the one that works f—kin’ best. Otherwise they’re all at the same useless level.”

“Pfft.” Was the wheat bag’s contribution.

Connor shook his hands free of the bubbles and dried them on a clean dish towel. “I do not understand why these companies cannot truthfully admit the ‘cleaning power’ of their products.”

“It’s not about truth.” Hank said. “It’s about who’s got the prettiest label, the most bubbles, and trending rhetoric about baby ducks—

“Baby ducks?” A furrow appeared between Connor’s brows.

“Yeah, like ‘buy this and support wildlife foundation--

“A bribe to knowingly use a subpar product.” Connor studied the picture of the yellow duckling that had inspired Hank’s argument. “I suppose that is a better reason to make such a purchase than relying upon a favorite color.”

“I never phckin’ said blue was my favorite color!”

“Reed, settle down.” Hank waved a hand to stop the argument from spiraling out of control.

Connor had a better distraction. He opened the fridge and pulled out a store bought cake. “Look, pouty human.”

“Shut up, phckin’ android.”

The cake, still in its container, plunked down in front of Gavin’s nose.

“Here, I found something yesterday called coffeecake. See if it’s any good.”

Gavin pulled the wheat bag from his head and transferring it to his shoulder, he squinted at the offering. “Hell you talkin’ about?”

“Coffeecake.” Connor said.

Hank shook his head as Gavin clawed at the edges of the plastic dome covering the cake. “Cake isn’t a breakfast food.”

“It contains the same basic ingredients as buttered toast and jelly and coffee.” Connor said with a pointed look at the heavily jellied toast balanced on Hank’s open palm and the large mug of coffee clutched in the other hand.

“And eggs!” Gavin pitched in as he gave up on the edges and just crushed the cake’s plastic safety lid between his hands. Under the sudden pressure, it popped off and rolled to and over the table’s edge. Sumo jumped down from the couch to lick at it.

“Milk as well.” Connor added as he got comfortable at the table and propped his chin in his hands.

Hank shrugged and sipped from his coffee. “I ain’t about to argue with that logic. Reed, get a d—mn plate.”

“Phrku.” Gavin muttered around a mouthful of cake. “Git yer own.”

Hank didn’t miss the way those green eyes watched him for a reaction. If this was a test from Reed, then Hank decided to give the man some new data to work with.

He carefully, carefully gave a tiny lopsided smile and before Reed could overthink it, he strode to the coffee machine, but as he did so, he gave Gavin a pat on the head. “Too early for sass, Gavin.”

“Phruphmkoff.” Gavin shook his head and grumbled into his mouthful of cake too busy with the flavorful snack to react further. Or maybe he chose not to react to a harmless gesture.

\--

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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